


2 Boys 1 Melon

by RcA



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Inappropriate Use of a Fruit, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-06 20:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15893631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RcA/pseuds/RcA
Summary: After a hard day's work, Seungri shares a sweet treat with his hyung.





	2 Boys 1 Melon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlight/gifts).



> I blame phlight for this. (:
> 
> Written for the Come To My Victory Seungri FicFest 2018 to celebrate the release of Seungri's album, The Great Seungri.
> 
> Another thing: this doesn't take place at any specific point on the existing IRL timeline, although there is a mention of solo careers, so 2013 or later probably works best. But feel free to picture them with whatever hair style and color you like.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is a fictional work based on the public personas of real people, over whom I make no claim and to whom I mean no harm. Just having a little fun with them.

 

 

 

Seungri hops out of the van, kicking up dust as he lands. Moving aside quickly to make room for the film crew, he squints up through the midday sun at the sign on the old wooden building looming over him.

Yoshida Plantation.

There’s nothing out here for miles but narrow dirt roads that wind their way through sprawling fields of crops. Like the drive, the verdant landscape seemed endless. But at long last, here he stands. To his right, rows upon rows of leafy green plants. To his left, more of the same. And straight ahead, down a well-worn footpath, greenhouses.

That must be where they grow the melons.

Just the sight of those glass buildings is enough to have sweat beading along his hairline. The late summer sun is out in full force today. He was hoping for a little cloud cover, maybe a breeze? Already the sun beating down on him is warming his skin through his shirt; he’s going to be sweating buckets before they’ve even begun. The white cotton shirt he wore today to help ward off the heat is going to show off every patch and streak of sweat, sure to be stained by day’s end. And the camera trailing him is going to pick up on all of it.

Yeah, that’s right: the camera. Here’s here today because the variety show his manager picked out for him decided that, in keeping with their summer themed programming, he should assist the renowned Yoshida family with their seasonal melon harvest. Said it would make for some good, clean, family friendly entertainment.

And it’s not like he’ll be picking just any old fruit; musk melons like those he’s about to meet today top the market for high-end fruit. In Japan, fruit like this is a luxury product, a sign of wealth and prosperity. It takes a pretty penny to walk away with one of these beauties.

So Seungri agreed. But the moment he heard the word _melon_ he knew who he had to call.

No one loves melons more than Daesung. Daesung is mad about melons, and not the kind you play with—the kind you eat. And he’s in Japan right now—busy with his own promotions, but if he found out Seungri spent the day on a melon farm and didn’t invite him along, Seungri would never hear the end of it.

What’s more, Daesung’s silly humor and excellent comedic timing has been shown to resonate with a Japanese audience. Seungri by himself is good, he doesn’t need the help, but... together they make an unbeatable team.

And though he hates to admit it, he could use another set of strong arms. Seungri can manage on his own, sure, but Daesung? Daesung is built for manual labor. As long as his hyung gets his melon fix at the end, Seungri can’t see him complaining.

Another van pulls up the drive and a moment later Daesung carefully climbs out, setting foot on the dirt gingerly, glancing about himself with that unassuming, almost lost look he pastes on for these types of programs. It’s cute, but Seungri knows he’s playing it up on purpose. The fans want to see them surprised and delighted by new sights and sounds. Something about living vicariously through them as they brave the unknown. Seungri prefers to approach unfamiliar situations with an air of confidence, whether he knows what he’s getting himself into or not, but he can’t fault his hyung for doing what works best for him.

Not when it works so damn _well_. His fans eat it up.

“Seungri-yah!”

Oh, he’s been spotted. With an exaggerated wave and a shout of recognition, Daesung trots over to where Seungri waits with his cameraman. Seungri goes to meet him halfway, keenly aware of the camera’s presence, up and running and trained on the two of them.

Let the harvest begin.

 

 

~🍈~

 

 

By the end of the day Seungri can smell himself, along with everyone else who brushes past him. The air inside the greenhouse is thick and heavy with the sweet aroma of ripe melon, but it’s no match for the rivers of sweat running down his back and chest and neck and—ugh. It isn’t especially hard work, cutting the melons from their vines and carrying them inside, but he can’t remember the last time he spent this long outside in the heat and wasn’t periodically dunking himself in a body of water. Access to a pool right now would be _heaven_. He sneaks a look at Daesung who’s as sweat-soaked as the rest of them and wonders if, given the opportunity, he might set aside his fear of water and join him.

There’s just no telling with Daesung. And that both bothers and intrigues Seungri.

When they’re finally pulled from their duties, Seungri wants to collapse with relief. It helps that Daesung appears ready to do the same; his fierce interest in melons is obviously no match for this oppressive heat.

Mr. Yoshida is a kind old man who looks like he hasn’t missed a day of work in his life, with skin like leather from years under the unforgiving sun and deep laugh lines etched into his face around his mouth and eyes. He waves them over in a friendly manner, smiling like he has some secret he can’t wait to share.

“Thank you for your help today, you’ve worked very hard,” he says, bowing to them several times.

“No, thank you for the experience, we’re happy to be here,” Daesung replies smoothly, bowing deeply and respectfully in return, as cheerful and good-natured as ever, even with his hair sticking to his sweat-dampened face. Seungri doesn’t have to look into a mirror to know his is in a similar state.

“Yes,” Seungri jumps in, “We’re honored to be a part of the harvest, even if only a small one. It’s said that your melons are the best of the best. And our viewers will enjoy the behind-the-scenes look at where they come from,” he finishes, stepping back to gesture at the camera as if their audience is just on the other side of it, watching them as they speak.

Mr. Yoshida offers him a shy smile, as if he hasn’t heard such praise for his produce a hundred times already. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“I mean it.”

Mr. Yoshida smiles at them again. “I know you do. That’s why I want to treat you boys to a melon bowl, they’re very popular here. But first,” he says, taking them by the arms and gently turning them around, “I want you to go back out there and pick out a melon for yourselves, one each. Not to eat—to take home with you.”

“Really?!” Daesung blurts out, hands flying to his mouth in surprise. Seungri feels the same but doesn’t show it in such a big way. These melons aren’t cheap, to say the least. Those headed to grocers and gift shops might sell for hundreds. Those destined for auction, the cream of the crop, could go for _thousands_. This is quite a gift.

He chances a look at Daesung to see how he’s taking it. His bandmate is staring back at him with wide, incredulous eyes, hands still clamped over his mouth, frozen in shock. Seungri can’t tell how much he means it and how much is just an act.

“Thank you, thank you, thank yo—” he gushes until, with a little push, Mr. Yoshida sends them back down the beaten path, back the way they came. Back to the sauna-like greenhouses they’ve just escaped.

But Seungri can’t drag his feet, not with the camera’s eye still on him—and not when, just steps ahead of him, Daesung is practically floating on air, his exhaustion forgotten.

So he sucks it up and follows the melon guru to their prize, trailing Daesung up and down row after row of yet more melons, trusting him to find them the very best. After today’s schooling Seungri knows how to identify a ripened melon… but the endless energy he’s known for doesn’t extend to working in the heat, he’s tired, and hey, it doesn’t hurt to let his hyung have his moment in the sun.

Daesung selects a melon—a honeydew—and inspects it methodically, sinking to his knees and smelling the stem end for sweetness, pressing the other end to test for ripeness. When he cradles it in one hand and skims the other almost lovingly over its smooth skin, Seungri can’t hold his silence any longer.

“What are you feeling for?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of him. He spent all his time on cantaloupes, which look and feel completely different.

“A perfectly ripe honeydew should feel a little sticky,” Daesung says distractedly, still stroking the melon’s surface. “Like, well, honey dew.” He offers it up for Seungri to touch.

Seungri isn’t sure he wants to after watching him get so intimate with it. He knows Daesung is a big fan of this fruit, but isn’t this taking it a little too far? He’s practically fondling it.

And with that, a seed of thought is planted.

Seungri shrugs and glides a finger down the honeydew’s waxy side, to appease both him and their future audience. “Hmm, yeah,” he says, not particularly interested. He’s more a cantaloupe guy anyway.

Daesung springs to his feet, turns to the cameraman with a hopeful expression. “Is that it? Are we done?”

“Y—yeah,” the man says, swinging the camera back around to Seungri, “as soon as Seungri chooses—”

But he isn’t even finished before Daesung is gone, well on his way back to the main building with his prized melon cradled in both arms like a baby. Seungri on the other hand doesn’t give his selection much thought—on the way back he darts in and clips a cantaloupe off the vine, aiming for one that’s attractively round with good color, quality he can see. Most of what’s out here is ready for picking. Anything he takes home with him should be more than fine.

Especially since he doesn’t exactly plan on eating it.

And Seungri thinks that it, they’re done... until they’re ushered back inside and led to a table complete with a pitcher of water and stacks of napkins and two shiny silver spoons.

Oh. Right.

For their hard work they’re treated to half a melon each, the seed-filled centers scooped out and replaced with a spoonful of creamy-delicious vanilla ice cream. It’s the perfect balance of smooth and sweet, a fitting complement to the melon’s subtle flavor. Seungri can think of no better way to cool down on a hot summer day—besides maybe that pool he was daydreaming about earlier.

With the camera still rolling, along with Daesung, he digs in.

Of course, Daesung makes a show of it, burying his spoon in the fruit’s sweet flesh with such raw enthusiasm that Seungri worries this episode might not be family friendly after all. Worse, when the spoon comes back up loaded with hunks of melon he shovels it all in at once, making sure to embellish every bite with a euphoric moan… and doesn’t seem to mind when an errant drop of juice misses its mark and cuts a slow, creeping path down his chin. Watching him make short work of his dessert, even going so far as to slurp up the remains, Seungri feels more spectator than participant, relegated to the sidelines. Talk about stealing the show.

“You’re not done already, are you?”

“Huh? Oh.” Seungri remembers he still has half a melon to polish off. He knows it’s rude not to finish his food, but when he’s got Daesung across from him, looking like that, how can he hope to continue?

Their cameraman is away on a bathroom break. Maybe Daesung can help him with his before he makes it back. But first...

“You, uh,” he says, pointing at his own face so Daesung gets the message. “You’ve got a little...”

“What? Here?” Daesung runs his tongue over his upper lip, taking the melted ice cream mustache with it. Well, most of it.

“You missed a spot.”

This time Daesung doesn’t bother with his tongue, swiping at the daub of cream with his thumb. Then, after a fleeting glance at the camera where it rests innocuously on the table—Seungri is pretty sure it’s on standby—pops that in his mouth too.

Seungri swallows thickly. Stares down at his dessert bowl. At the melon’s decadent dark orange flesh, streaked through with white from the fast-melting ball of ice cream. Down at his cantaloupe on the seat beside him, and over at Daesung’s honeydew, for which he’s lovingly cleared a space atop the rustic wood table between them.

The tiny seed in his mind grows, an idea fast taking shape. With filming wrapping up, they’re supposed to be cooling down. But what Seungri wants to do next... just the thought is getting him hot.

“We’re going back after this, right?”

“To our hotels? Think so,” Daesung mumbles, tucking into what’s left of his melon, scraping his spoon around its inside edge in search of every last morsel.

“Does your room have a microwave?”

Daesung doesn’t look up from his all-consuming, very important work. “No. Why?”

“Wanna come back to mine?”

That gets him to stop.

“Why? I mean, not that I definitely don’t want to, I’m just wondering—”

Seungri almost laughs. Daesung has every reason to be wary. How often does Seungri invite him to hang out, just the two of them? More importantly, how often does Daesung accept? Their social lives are as different as night and day, and as such, they don’t exactly see each other much outside of BIGBANG appearances, their joint trip to Hawaii several years ago notwithstanding.

The answer? Not often, only because Daesung would rather be in the safety and comfort of his own home than out discovering the world with him. Seungri tries not to take it personally. He may not understand it, but he is mindful of their differences. He knows it’s just how Daesung is.

However, Seungri is nothing if not persistent, especially when he’s sure this is something Daesung will thank him for later.

“There’s just something I want to try. And it happens to involve this.” He holds up his gift melon for Daesung to see. “And you’re the melon expert here. I could use your... help.”

“You’re gonna eat it? But you barely finished this one,” Daesung says skeptically, staring a little too long with suspicion at the bits of fruit left in Seungri’s melon bowl. Or is that hunger?

_Not eat it_ , Seungri wants to say. But that would only invite more questions. And if there’s one thing Seungri has realized about Daesung in their years as friends, bandmates, brothers... it’s that when convincing him to do something he otherwise might not, the element of surprise is everything.

“Come back with me and you’ll see.”

Daesung pins him with a cautious look, like he doesn’t quite believe him, but Seungri is reasonably sure he doesn’t have a good excuse not to, and Daesung isn’t the type to pretend to have plans just to weasel his way out of something. He has him right where he wants him.

And that’s how, though they arrived separately, they leave together, taking one van back to Seungri’s hotel in nearby Furano.

As soon as they’re in the room Seungri is ordering his hyung around. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just that without a camera monitoring them, it’s easy to forget the formalities that drive an invisible wedge between them in public. Seungri doesn’t mind keeping up appearances as necessary, but in private it’s nice to fall back on what comes naturally. To simply be, well... themselves.

“See if you can find a knife in one of those drawers. A spoon too,” he tells Daesung, depositing his melon on the bed.

“So you are eating it.”

“Not quite,” Seungri quips. “We’re going to carve a hole in it.”

“A hole?” Daesung asks, confused as all hell, but rifles noisily through the drawer anyway, doing as Seungri asked. As Seungri knew he would.

Seungri tucks their melons under both arms and heads straight for the microwave with them. It’s perfectly melon-sized, just big enough to fit one. He sets one on the desk and has the other halfway through the open microwave door when an iron grip on his wrist stops him.

“What are you doing?!” Daesung nearly deafens him with his outraged cry, dragging his arm—and with it, his melon—away from the microwave plate, desperate to save it.

_Oh_ , he thinks, chancing a look at the weighty fruit in his hand. He grabbed the honeydew.

“It’s better when it’s warm,” he explains since apparently Daesung isn’t totally on board yet.

“But what for?” Daesung whines at him. “What are you planning, Lee Seunghyun?”

Seungri frowns.

“You really haven’t guessed by now?”

“What? Why would you need to—oh.” Daesung stops there, his whole face going slack with sudden, naked realization. Behind those wide eyes Seungri can _see_ him putting two and two together. The knife, the hole they haven’t cut yet, the desired warmth from the microwave oven.

“Now you get it.”

Daesung shakes his head, looking like he wants to back away, and fast—if only Seungri was not still holding his beloved honeydew hostage.

“Oh no.”

“Oh _yes_.”

“Why would you... how even...” He tries but can’t seem to push the words out. “To a perfectly good melon...”

“Any hole is a goal,” Seungri croons, and that earns him a half-laugh, half-groan.

"You're the worst."

Still not sold, then. In all honesty, he half-expected this reaction. From this connoisseur of fine fruits, anything more consenting would have taken him by surprise. But wait—is that a hint of _intrigue_ he spies behind those dark eyes?

He relinquishes the melon to its rightful owner. That spark of interest tells him he can talk Daesung into this... if he plays his cards right.

“Okay, in all seriousness? Because it feels amazing. It feels like _sex_ ,” Seungri says, shrugging like it’s nothing to get worked up over. “And hey, we can still eat it afterward. It’s not like we’re throwing it away.”

Daesung turns a little green at that. Green like the tender flesh inside his precious honeydew that he still clutches protectively, holding it tightly against his other side, safely out of Seungri’s reach, his own body a solid, meaty shield between them.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Is it? I call it being resourceful.”

“I…”

A war of indecision plays out on Daesung’s face the longer he gazes down at the melon in his hands, clearly torn. To Seungri, that’s a sign of progress.

“I... can’t do it. I can’t defile this beautiful melon like that.”

Seungri chokes on a laugh. _Defile?_

“Don’t think of it that way. Think of it as _making love_ to it.” He waggles his eyebrows. “You love melons, don’t you? You’re crazy about them? Show this one just how much.”

“I love eating melons. Not fucking them,” Daesung deadpans.

_You say that now..._

“Come on, man. Just give it a go. Doesn’t hurt to try,” Seungri wheedles. “I won’t tell the others if that’s what you’re worried about. Seriously. They don’t even know about me. About this.” Stubbornly shoving aside any creeping awkwardness, he lets Daesung in on a little secret— _his_ dirty little secret. “You’re the first.”

Daesung is quiet for long enough that Seungri thinks he’s finally gotten through to him. Not running from him, not fighting him. Just slowly digesting what he’s just divulged.

“Okay, but... but we’re not using mine.”

Seungri fights not to roll his eyes. “We’re going to use both. One for you, one for me.” What does Daesung think they’re going to do, share? Not a chance.

“Nope, not happening,” Daesung decides, and at long last, Seungri loses it.

“You can’t take it home with you! They won’t let you take it on the plane!”

“Then I’ll eat it before I leave!”

“All by yourself?” That’s a pretty sizeable melon he picked out for himself. He wonders what it says about his taste in other similarly-shaped delights. “I’m telling you, you’re gonna love this, you’ll thank me later.”

“I don’t care! You’re not molesting my melon!”

“Fine!” Seungri shouts. He likes shouting, gives him a much-needed energy boost. He doesn’t like the way it makes Daesung flinch though.

Well, shit, now he just feels bad. He forgets sometimes just how jittery this hyung can be.

“Fine,” he says again, this time more softly. “We’ll use mine. Or we’ll start with mine. You’ll change your mind when you see how good it can be.”

So Seungri lets him have his melon back and sets his cantaloupe in its place. Except there’s just one problem. The damn thing doesn’t want to sit still.

“I need something to—oh, thanks,” he says when Daesung hands him a bowl, made of sturdy plastic and the perfect size to keep it from rolling all over the microwave’s glass plate. _Now_ _he’s helping_ , he thinks smugly, loading the melon into its cradle.

He shuts the microwave door and punches a button, any button. This won’t take long.

They lean in, putting their heads together and watching it turn.

“How hot do you want this thing?” Daesung asks as the timer steadily counts down. 30... 29... 28...

“About body temp.”

Daesung doesn’t reply, and his lack of commentary prompts Seungri to check on him and—is he _blushing?_

He’s turning back to the microwave when there’s a bang like a bomb going off. Seungri shouts, Daesung shouts too, and in a panic,  they crash into each other in a painful tangle of limbs.

Seungri sticks a finger in his ear as he rights himself, wincing in pain. “What the hell?!”

“It exploded!” Daesung laughs like crazy from his hiding place all the way across the room. He sure can move fast when he really wants to.

Seungri stumbles back over to the microwave and smacks the button that opens the door, effectively turning it off, and within seconds the sickly-sweet perfume of ripe, piping hot cantaloupe wafts through the room.

It smells delicious, enough that Seungri’s stomach might be rumbling if he hadn’t already had his fill of the fruit just that afternoon. But one look at the carnage and he knows his plans have gone to waste. His melon is in pieces—confined to the bowl, thankfully, but still. He can’t stick his dick in pieces.

“Do you think anyone heard?” Daesung flits about the room in renewed fear. “Other guests? The hotel staff?” He gulps dramatically, turning wide, frightened eyes on Seungri. “Think they’ll call the cops on us?”

“For accidentally blowing up a melon?”

“It sounded like a bomb! Or a gun!”

“It’s fine, calm down,” Seungri tells him, peering into the microwave to check for damage and finds gobs of exploded melon all over its walls. Gross.

He nearly has a heart attack when the door to their room opens unexpectedly. He whips around to the sight of Daesung poking his head out into the hall, searching left and right like he expects a confrontation and looking shady as hell. The _worst_ partner in crime.  Seungri storms over and grabs him by the shirt and lugs him back into the room, kicking the door closed behind him.

Daesung jumps in fright as it slams shut.

"Why are you always so noisy?” he hisses.

“Why are you always so jumpy?”

Daesung glowers at him. “You shouldn’t speak to your hyung like that.”

Seungri fights not to roll his eyes. He’s used to the others playing the hyung card, but for some reason he lacks the patience for it when it’s coming from Daesung.

“Sorry, hyung,” he says, holding his tongue like a good dongsaeng, and Daesung seems satisfied with that.

“So...” Daesung tilts to one side, trying to see around him. “How’s it look.”

“It’s a goner,” Seungri says morosely, grabbing the bowl of melon and holding it between them so Daesung can get a good, long look at the mushy remains of his master plan. “Shit. I was supposed to carve the hole first. Maybe that’s why it...” He can’t say it.

“You’re not gonna make that mistake a second time, are you?”

Seungri meets his eyes, not sure what he means.

At first, Daesung doesn’t reply. He picks his way back across the room to where he stashed his honeydew, takes it slowly and deliberately in hand, returns with it, and with a face like he’s offering up his first-born child, holds it out to Seungri.

“...here. It’s yours if you want it.”

Seungri can’t believe it. But he isn’t about to question it. He finally has Daesung on his side; he won’t risk running him off by refusing his gift.

He accepts the treasure before Daesung can change his mind. Claims a spot on the bed, making himself comfortable. Snatches up the serrated blade Daesung found for him earlier and carves out a small hole, introducing more melon scent to the room, though this one is milder, as honeydew tends to be. He then starts the process of enlarging it, carefully cutting away at the hole’s edge, widening it one thin wedge at a time. Then taking a spoon to it to smooth the sides. Daesung leans in, watching him work.

“Isn’t that too big?” he says with faux innocence and a big saccharine smile.

“For you? Probably,” Seungri quips, not missing a beat. Daesung pouts back at him and Seungri doesn’t even feel bad. He deserved that.

The last thing he wants to do is screw up and cut the hole too big. It should be a little on the tight side. Not to mention that after his melon’s tragic demise, they’ll have to take turns with this one. Nothing can be doing about it; the same hole will have to accommodate them both. By Seungri’s estimate, they’re similar in size—it’s been a crazy long time since he last got up close and personal with Daesung’s junk, but the feel of him he hasn’t forgotten.

He digs the spoon in deeper and scoops out more of the moist melon flesh. It’s close, but could probably use a test fit...

Daesung pulls up a big cushioned chair and falls back onto it with a huff.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to my melon.” He gives the fruit in Seungri’s hands a look of profound sorrow. “If Mr. Yoshida knew...”

Seungri sneaks a look into the hole he’s cut, checking its color. The last time he did this—the only time he did this—his partner was a cantaloupe. Its flesh had been a raw red-orange, which had seemed somehow more inviting—more alluring, more _enticing_. The whitish, pale green flesh of this honeydew is, in comparison, a little unsettling. Seungri wouldn’t go so far as to call it off-putting, but it does break the illusion of being vaguely human.

Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers.

“Okay,” he announces, setting down his carving tools and resting the melon on his lap… and tucks his bottom lip under his teeth when his dick perks up at the gentle pressure. “We’ll start with this. Don’t want to make it any bigger ‘til we’ve tried it.”

Daesung slaps both hands over his rapidly reddening face. “I can’t watch.”

“So you’re cool with me going first? You don’t mind sloppy seconds?”

“I’m not... I still don’t know if...” He can’t seem to say it, whatever _it_ is. With a tortured cry he doubles over, hiding his face in his ripped-up jeans. “Do what you want. I’m not stopping you.”

“That’s a funny way to give consent, but okay,” Seungri says, starting on his pants. It doesn’t take much, he’s been on edge ever since the idea first entered his head and having an audience—even if a somewhat reluctant one—is giving him a secret, added thrill.

Though it’s far from the first time Daesung has seen him with his pants down and dick out. Years have passed, but you don’t just forget something like that.

He pushes his jeans down his thighs, about to his knees, because past experience has taught him that this is bound to be messy. He brings the melon back up and lines up, pointing its hole at the tip of his dick—then tenses up, because at room temp it’s just this side of cold against his heated skin. But he doesn’t want to risk losing this one too, so it’ll have to do. He pushes through, then there’s that sweet, sweet slide, and a little give as he works his way in—

—but not enough to take all of him. Damnit, it’s too tight.

He stops with a put-upon sigh, reaching for the knife again while Daesung peeks at him soundlessly from behind his hands. Seungri can see his eyes between his slightly spread fingers. _At least he’s looking_ , he tells himself, tongue poking out as he concentrates on perfecting the dimensions of his succulent path to pleasure.

They say the third time’s the charm, but luckily for Seungri, he doesn’t have to wait that long to get it right. On the second try his cock slips right in and it’s _divine_ , the melon’s cool, firm-yet-yielding flesh every bit as wonderful as he hoped for.

Then he goes to lift it, and it’s _so_...

“Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” Daesung echoes, though it’s entirely different, high and anxious. “Is your dick inside it? Are you really doing it?”

“You’ve _got_ to feel this,” Seungri moans out. How could he forget this suction? “It’s like... _unhh_ , the best blowjob _ever_.”

“ _Aaaagghhh_ ,” Daesung groans in misery and jumps to his feet, retreating away from Seungri and his melon lover, stopping before the big window at the far end of the room. He stands there in the corner, one hand braced against the wall, head down and shoulders creeping up to his ears, like he can’t believe he’s having to witness this.

Now that he’s got a good rhythm going, Seungri can’t bring himself to care. The more intimate he gets with this melon, the more he finds that he doesn’t need Daesung nearby to have a good time. Just him and this honeydew will do just fine.

“You picked a good one,” Seungri eventually says, needing to make _some_ sort of sound and guessing that Daesung will tolerate words and sentences better than long, indulgent moans. “It’s slippery and tight and so fucking wet inside. You really need to see this, the juice..." is running down the shaft of his dick and smearing all over his balls and hips, a little sticky but also Seungri’s kind of nasty.

Daesung releases a breathy sound, and at first Seungri thinks he’s laughing at him, fully expects him to follow it up with an embarrassed _shut up_ , _Seungri_ , except—

—except the arm that’s not propped against the wall is out of sight and in motion, and even with his back turned, there’s no misunderstanding where it is or what it’s doing.

Seungri stops moving the melon with his cock snug inside.

“You’re getting off on this,” he says gleefully. It’s not an accusation; it’s a revelation.

Daesung’s arm halts for just a second... before it starts up again, his head bowing sharply and hips starting to rock as he—though Seungri can’t see it from here—rubs hard at himself through the front of his jeans.

“Come back,” Seungri calls to him, voice as sweet as the melon in his lap. Daesung has the appetite; Seungri only needs to appeal to it. “It’s almost your turn anyway.”

Daesung whips around at that, back crushed to the wall, hand gripping his erection where it shows through his pants, a bold, heavy outline that’s impossible to miss. Damn. Seungri thought he might have scared him off, but no... he’s really into it. And there’s no hiding or denying it now.

He slides the melon off his cock while Daesung is watching, making a show of it. He’s sad to see it go, but the obscene sucking sound it makes when it pops off is worth it. Then he lays it at his side on the bed, hole end up. To his surprise, Daesung’s eyes don’t follow it right away, lingering instead for the span of a few breaths on his glistening wet dick.

_That’s interesting,_ Seungri thinks, tucking that information away for the time being. He might be able to do something with it later.

But right now he has a horny Daesung to contend with. The look on his face is as conflicted as ever, but it’s clear his body knows what it wants. All he’s got to do is get his head in the game.

Seungri pats the space beside him with a friendly smile, pretending for a moment that he isn’t naked from the waist down, that his cock isn’t so hard it could pierce steel and pointing to the ceiling like a rocket waiting for launch.

“Your turn.”

“You didn’t come in it, did you?” Daesung asks, eyeing the melon like it might bite.

“Nah, thanks for letting me have some fun with it, but it’s still your melon. Thought you should have that honor.”

“Honor,” Daesung says under his breath as he drops onto the bed and tackles his fly, his frustration evident in the way he struggles with it. Slipping the button through its slit, tearing the zipper down, wrenching open the flaps just enough to free his dick.

“You’re gonna need more clearance than that,” Seungri advises him, “unless you want juice all over your clothes.”

“You want me to take ‘em off?”

Seungri lets his head thunk against the wall behind him. “Come on, man, what are you worried about? It’s not like I’ve never seen it before.”

In fact, he’s done a lot more than just seen it. He wonders how much Daesung remembers, if he ever thinks about it, if he touches himself to the fuzzy memory of the things they used to get up to together way back when they were young and so impossibly, helplessly horny that some days, at least for Seungri, a stiff breeze was all it took to pitch a tent in his pants.

Daesung, he soon learned, wasn’t much better off; he was just better at finding ways to hide it.

Well, he’s not hiding it now. Finally, he brings it out, wrestling his jeans and boxer-briefs off his hips, black on black on tan thighs. His undershirt he rucks up high on his stomach, just a thin white tanktop worn under his button-down to catch the sweat from the day's work. Seungri would like to soak up the sight of him after so long without, curiosity leading him down, down, down… but Daesung can be skittish and didn’t always appreciate his shameless staring, he remembers that much.

Not that he has anything to be shy about. This might be a slightly tighter fit on him.

"This is weird."

“Hold it,” Seungri tells him, reaching for the melon with both hands. “Hold it and I’ll bring it down on you.”

Daesung lets out a slow breath and does as he says, giving his hard cock a slow, preparatory stroke, making sure he’s good and ready for what’s to come.

Seungri lowers the melon. Slowly, carefully, so as not to miss his expression the moment it’s on him. Because in a way, this is Daesung’s first—first time with a fruit, that is, and Seungri is honored to share it with him.

_Honored_. Only by some miracle does he manage to maintain his composure, guiding the melon to its mark with a wildly out-of-control grin.

Fortunately for him, Daesung isn’t paying him any attention, too engrossed in the honeydew hovering over the head of his dick, then covering it... and soon after, any remaining embarrassment gives way to open-mouthed astonishment when Seungri meets resistance and _keeps on pushing._

“Ohh _hhh_ _fuck_ ,” he curses with more force than Seungri is used to, releasing his cock to tangle both hands in the bedding. His neck shines with sweat, and Seungri knows if he touched his skin he would find it slightly tacky, just like the rind of the honeydew in his hands. He’s not alone; Seungri feels his own pooling in the hollow at the base of his throat. And yet the scent of their sweat is lost under the fragrance of melon, cloyingly sweet.

“Good, isn’t it? Said you’d like it, didn't I?” he can’t resist boasting just a little. It isn’t every day he gets to tell this hyung _I told you so._

Daesung bites his lip. “Lift up?”

Seungri gives him what he wants, tugging the melon up and off his cock—but not completely off—and Daesung seems surprised when his hips rise up with it.

“Oh my god,” he says around a harsh breath. “It’s—”

Seungri does it again before he can finish—down, up— feeling a tad sadistic. It's a small, tight space with very little give; he knows what this suction must be doing to him.

“You were saying?”

“—it’s almost too much,” Daesung manages, “but, god, _don’t stop_.”

“When’s the last time you got head this good?”

“ _Fffffuck_.”

Yeah, that’s what he thought. Seungri repeats the cycle, down and up, down and up, and it doesn’t matter how many repetitions he puts him through, Daesung can never seem to help himself, arching his spine and chasing after it every time. _No control_ , Seungri thinks, secretly pleased. And yet the more Seungri sees he wants it, the more he wants to take it away. If he was really feeling cruel, he would make him wait, now that he’s had a taste. Maybe until the juice making a slow crawl down his dick has dried.

Fuck, but he’s not that evil. Who knew using this on someone else would be almost as much fun as turning it on himself?

“Here, it’s all yours,” he says, letting the melon come to a rest at the base of Daesung’s cock and holding it there expectantly—though he’s tempted to let it go. If he did, would it be held in place?

“My...”

He laughs at the fog of pleasure on Daesung’s face. “Your hands.”

“Oh.” Daesung takes the melon in hand and has the gall to look like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “You’re... done?”

“Yeah, you just... keep at it. Have fun. I’m just gonna...” Seungri falls back on his ass and lets a hand find its way back to his poor, neglected cock... _finally_. He would tack on a _hope you don’t mind_ for good measure, but Daesung clearly does not. A quick check shows he’s already gone back to work on himself, getting to know the melon inside _and_ out this time, stroking its smooth rind and feeling it up in much the same way he had while it was still on the vine.

They go at it together like this for a time, just two friends beating off side by side, Seungri chancing a peek at Daesung when he’s willing to risk it—not that he thinks Daesung would actually stop if he caught him looking, not this far in. The sounds he lets slip are pretty contained, but the squish and slurp of the melon as it takes his dick are coming faster and lasting only half as long, like he doesn’t have the patience anymore for a slow, steady sink, and if that’s not a sign that he’s close, well.

Seungri picks up speed, mimicking him without meaning to, falling into stroke beside him.

He thinks he hears the moment Daesung reaches his peak, though his lack of sound throws it all into doubt.

“Did you come?”

“...Yeah,” Daesung groans after a moment, coming back down in step-like breaths. “God, I never would have thought...” The honeydew gives him up with a wet kiss. “Fuckin’ melons, man.”

Huh. He’s surprisingly low-key when he comes, given that great big voice of his, Seungri decides. Not much has changed, then. Maybe his silence all those years ago wasn’t purely out of necessity, for fear of being caught in the act. Maybe he really is the strong and silent type.

Well, he’s glad Daesung got a nice, juicy hole to finish up inside of. Seungri, on the other hand, would benefit from some fresh lube. His is fast drying up, and what started out as sweetly-scented slick is now sticky and gross and really no good at all for getting off with.

He throws a sad look at his bowl of exploded melon. Sure would be a shame to waste it. Dipping his hand in it rewards him with a fresh coat of juice and shreds of pulp—it’s even still a little warm in places.

He’s barely brought it back to himself when another hand appears out of the blue—not his—and next thing he knows Daesung is taking him by the wrist and pulling his cantaloupe-covered hand across the suddenly very narrow space between them—practically nonexistent, really. Too stunned to do anything but look on, Seungri locks up as Daesung lifts his hand to his mouth and goes to town on it, taking his fingers between his pillow-soft lips one by one and sucking them clean.

Daesung really, _really_ loves melon. And all this attention is going straight to Seungri’s cock, no layovers, no stops, just sweet, sweet heat and enough light suction to have him plotting how he can convince that mouth to make its way south, to other, more appreciative parts of him.

The melon is on its side on the bed, the hole he carved turned to the ceiling and looking very tempting. But not as tempting as Daesung’s full lips.

Seungri is struck by another idea. He’s full of them today. Reaching into the bowl again, his fingers close around a piece that feels overripe, almost mushy. Crushing it in his palm yields more juice than he can hold, spilling over the side of his hand and dripping back into the bowl. This Seungri smears over his cock, coating it liberally from root to tip.

And then he waits.

Daesung eyes him up and down, seeming no less hungry after his earlier taste test.

“You little...”

“I hope you're not calling me little, ‘cause as you can see, I’m not,” Seungri sasses, giving himself an encouraging stroke. Just in case Daesung needs a little convincing.

“Nothing about you is or has ever been little,” Daesung murmurs, wiggling out of his pants completely—and just before he drops them over the side of the bed Seungri sees that despite his earlier warning, they did not escape this encounter unscathed. Melon juice, man. That shit gets everywhere.

“Your big head... Your big mouth... Your big...” He teases a finger up the underside of Seungri’s melon-soaked cock, “...personality.”

And with that he slides in between Seungri’s legs, fitting there as easily as if he’s done it recently, and often. As if it hasn’t been years since Seungri last had this view.

Damn. He’s been missing out.

“Big and bold,” Seungri agrees. “I have big ideas too. You should let me pitch them more often.”

“And this is one of them, is it,” Daesung says, eyeing his juiced-up cock with such an intensity that Seungri squirms under the scrutiny.

_Just do it already!_ he wants to scream. But Daesung has never responded well to force. He was just talking about this in a recent interview, explaining how, at least in his eyes, Big Bang’s enduring success is owed in part to every member boasting an independent streak. It’s the driving force behind their solo tours, and when they reconvene as five, Seungri thinks they’re stronger for it. Daesung only seems meek; when push comes to shove, he’s just as stubborn as the rest of them.

You can lead a horse to water but you sure as hell can't make it drink. Not that Daesung is a horse or anything.

He doesn’t have to wait long before Daesung’s melon addiction gets the better of him. Holding him in place with a hand around his base, he’s opening up and lapping at his length, starting under the head and working his way down with quick little kitten licks that drive Seungri crazy with impatience.

“Come on, come onnnn,” Seungri urges, angling himself into that fluttering tongue. It's nice, but it's not the full coverage he _needs_.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what?” Daesung touches his tongue to his slit, so softly Seungri barely feels it, tip to tip. “This?”

“Y—yes.”

“Hmm... is this better?” Daesung ends the tease with a long, drawn-out, unbroken, flat-tongued scrape up his swollen length... and changing course at the head, doubling back, scouring him clean down to the hilt. He repeats this on the other side, then the underside—all sides, making sure not to miss an inch. By the time he’s done sampling Seungri, there’s no more melon left, only the cooling effect of his fast-drying spit.

Seungri wants him to do it again, but this time with the delicious squeeze of those lips wrapped around him.

The last time he had Daesung on him like this they were just days away from the filming of Intimate Note, though they didn’t know it at the time. Things were... different... between them back then when they were new to the music scene, teenage boys with an uncertain future in showbiz stuffed into a too-small apartment and strong-armed into sharing a room—even sharing a _bed_. There were mornings they would wake up an inch from each other’s sleeping faces, breathing each other’s air, so close Seungri would go cross-eyed trying to bring Daesung’s big nose into focus. Though it was never long before his eyes drifted to his lips—full, kissable, but more importantly to Seungri, _fuckable_.

Sharing body heat under one sheet meant that parts of them that probably should not have been touching were wide awake well before the rest of them. By the time Seungri’s sleep-clouded brain caught up his pesky morning wood was halfway outside his sweatpants, reaching for his bedmate’s nearby warmth, begging to be noticed.

Things were bound to happen. And some days they did. Their awkwardness back then was due more to the fact that Seungri didn’t know how to act around his hyung after waking up to the unasked for—but not unwelcome—surprise of a good morning suck. Or sneaking in a handy while Daesung was still sleeping, on the cusp of waking up. It was only fair that he returned the favor.

And that is how, for a time, they became what Seungri fondly looks back on as bandmates with benefits _._ Because it was convenient. _  
_

“Mmmm, that was good.” Daesung draws back a bit, assessing his squeaky-clean dick, as if not sure what to make of it. “But now it’s all gone,” he says when he’s done, deciding on disappointment.

Seungri nods at the bowl. “More where that came from.”

Daesung wastes no time, diving back in and scooping out more melon and...

...wipes it all over Seungri's abs. With a frustrated cry Seungri throws his head back; and when it collides with the wall with a painful _thunk_ Daesung has the audacity to laugh.

"You got it on my shirt!" he hisses, scrubbing at the fresh wet spots. Like the sweat stains from earlier weren't bad enough.

"So take it off."

Seungri almost points out his hypocrisy. Daesung, who wanted to keep his pants _on_ while getting _off_ , casually suggesting that he ditch his top.

"It's in the way anyway," Daesung says, plucking at the damp hem where he'd half-heartedly shoved it aside to access Seungri's stomach. "If you want me to keep going..."

Seungri can't be rid of it fast enough, ripping it off and flinging it across the room like it's on fire.

_At least he cleans up after himself_ , he thinks when only then his hyung’s strange fixation strikes again, plunging in without hesitation now that there's nothing in his way, his tongue following the sticky-wet trail blazed by his hand, lips and nose and chin joining in. Seungri’s stomach jumps under the tickle of his tongue, sucks in a breath when he skates over his flank en route to his hip, exploring the dip there, finding it to his liking, tongue darting out to reclaim a trickle of runaway fruity flavor. He aches _desperately_ with arousal when Daesung rides the line of his oblique back to his cock, lapping at his skin all the way, syrupy sweetness and sharp sweat... only to detour at the last possible moment. Like the world’s most wonderful-terrible tease, he works his way around Seungri’s straining cock, pretending not to notice the smudge of warm pre-cum high on one cheek and even lavishing a little love on his balls where traces of the melon juice still linger from before, savoring Seungri everywhere but where Seungri really wants it.

_“Why do you have to be such a tease_ ,” he grits out. Some of the juice has found it way beneath his balls, dribbling out of sight. He wonders for one daring moment how far Daesung is willing to go in his quest to claim every drop.

Daesung meets his eyes, his own mischievous and bright through the gaps in his forward-swept hair.

“Do you want the melon back?”

“No.”

“Who’s afraid of sloppy seconds now?”

“It’s not that, I’d just rather have—” _You_. No, that doesn't sound right. Seungri catches it just in time, backpedals. “Your mouth. No melon in the world comes close.”

Daesung sighs, going for another handful. This time he uses it to grease up his cock, which Seungri interprets as a promise of good things to come.

“Flattery will get you far,” he says, and with both hands steering him, guides Seungri’s waiting cock into his mouth with the same gusto Seungri remembers from all those years ago—and considerably more skill—and it niggles at him, the realization that Daesung isn’t as out of practice as he thought. He swallows him down like they’ve been doing this every day since. Like they never stopped.

Maybe Daesung didn’t. Maybe he just moved on to someone else.

Fuck, why did it take him so long to get Daesung alone again, their pants down and dicks out? If he’d known he was up for a little filthy fun he’d have extended the invitation ages ago. He might strike out, but there’s no chance of scoring if he never takes a swing. And it’s not like they’ve never played for the same team.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, battling the urge to get his hands in that hair, knowing how soft it is. He also knows that Daesung doesn’t like having it pulled and tugged on but that he used to let him, was merciful enough to forgive him his forgetfulness when he had him on the edge like this. Because where he had control of the melon, he has no say in what Daesung does with his talented mouth—or where, or how fast... or how _maddeningly slow_. And the slippery-softness of his inner cheeks and that spongy spot at the back of his throat that depresses when his head bumps it...

Daesung’s swallows reflex kicks in at the light touch, and _there’s_ the suction Seungri was waiting for.

Daesung slides off him just long enough to rasp, “Tell me when you’re about to come.”

Seungri lets his pouty frown speak for itself.

“I don’t want your jizz in my mouth,” Daesung explains, setting his jaw so Seungri can see he means it. “I never agreed to that.”

And Seungri thinks it’s the funniest fucking thing he’s said all day, because they are _miles_ past the point of what they both agreed to when this all began. He thought they’d just knock one out together. He never dreamed he’d be getting a blowjob out of it. You think you know a guy, and then he’s on his knees sucking you dry.

“What if I said it’s melon flavored?” he can’t resist poking him a bit.

“Then I’d call you a big fat liar.”

“You didn’t care back then.”

“That was years ago! We were just dumb teens. Dumb teens doing gross things.”

“So... what does that make us now?”

Daesung spares his forgotten melon a glance, clears the remnants of fruit juice and whatever else has been leaking out of Seungri’s dick from his plump lips.

“Grown men fucking fruit, I guess.”

Seungri _cackles_.

“I don’t know why I let you drag me into these things,” Daesung mourns his follies with a resigned sigh.

“It’s because I’m your closest, your most loved...” Seungri treats him to a sugary smile. “...little brother. Making you question your life choices is kind of my job.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Daesung says with his usual reluctant fondness. “And now it’s time to finish mine.”

And with that he stoops down and takes him in again, and Seungri can’t be sure, but he thinks it’s to keep him from seeing his shy grin.

Feels good, man. The return of those lips to unravel the tightness in his dick _and_ the knowledge that he got an honest smile out of the hyung he’s still most awkward with.

He’s working on that though.

“Okay,” he pants, hoping it’s a promise he can keep. He’s getting close, feels almost ready to blow. “I’ll warn you when I’m about to—”

But Daesung doesn’t let him finish, and normally Seungri would be very grouchy at the interruption, but this? This he can let slide, because Daesung is honing in on his too-sensitive head and attacking him all he’s got, and the melon that led him there is long gone, there’s only one thing he’s getting out of him now and it’s coming fast, oh, he’s— _he’s_ coming, and he knows he’s supposed to warn Daesung but he’s afraid if he does he might do something terrible like stop, might leave him hanging, and maybe, _maybe_ , if he waits just a moment more it’ll be okay.

“I’m—”

Unfortunately, that’s as far as he gets. He thrusts into Daesung’s exquisite heat and holds, feeling complete, made whole, like in the span of a second he’s flown into a million pieces and every part miraculously found its way back in perfect order, and...

...and like he doesn’t have a single bone in his body. He slumps back against the wall with a stretched-wide, silly grin under eyes that aren’t yet ready to reopen to the mortal world. Sensation, at least of the kind that’s not pleasant, comes back to him slowly. Where his skin was tacky with dried melon juice and saliva, he knows he now has semen to add to the mix. Not to mention the sweat he worked up at the melon farm and has yet to wash off.

God, he feels fucking disgusting. Probably looks and smells it too. And if the face Daesung is making is to be believed—a faint memory of him bolting off his cock like lightning comes floating back—he can add taste to that list.

Well, it sure ain’t melon.

“Hand me that bowl,” Daesung says in tight voice, holding out a hand expectantly. Seungri obeys, proud of himself when he passes it without spilling its contents all over himself along the way. Limbs like noodles, remember?

The next time he checks on Daesung he finds him still there, cross-legged on the bed, eyes open but unseeing, mechanically shoveling cantaloupe into his mouth and chewing in deep, reflective thought.

“I think,” he says through his suffering, “you would do well to spend less time fucking fruit and more time eating it.”

Seungri throws his head back with a hearty laugh. More fruit? If it means Daesung might come back for seconds... yeah, that sounds like something he can do.

 

 

 👼🍈🐼


End file.
